Shoulda Been a Cowboy

Objectively, Jake had to admit the place was beautiful, which was a tough thing for him since it also created a knot of tension in his chest that refused to ease. He managed to find beauty in Seattle, though it had taken a few years of living there to get used to all of the glass and steel. As cities went, there was a lot of nature. And the ocean was still nearby. He didn’t think he could live anywhere that wasn’t by the ocean.

It wasn’t that he spent a whole lot of time beachcombing. He wasn’t big on the sand between his toes. It was a feeling of freedom the ocean afforded. He had a vague sense that as long as it was nearby there was an escape. The idea of being landlocked unsettled him. It was akin to being trapped in his mind.

That was one of the reasons he’d always ridden his bike. There was something about it that felt like flying. That felt like escape. What he wasn’t used to was riding with another person, and interesting that Cassie’s arms tight around his waist didn’t feel like restraints. They felt warm, they felt secure.

And it felt like they were escaping together.

Though what Cassie Ventimiglia might have to escape from he had no idea. It struck him then that he knew nothing about the life she’d led since he’d left. He knew that she had opened The Grind two years ago, and that was the beginning and end of his knowledge.

It made him feel like an asshole to realize that. Seemed like he should’ve asked.

But it wasn’t as though she’d asked about him. As far as she knew he had ridden off one day, then ridden back. And nothing had happened in between. In some ways, he was content for people to think that, and in other ways not.